Chapter 5
FIVE
JOSH
At first, Tina protests when I invite her onto the dance floor after we’ve finished our dinner. But the pull of the live jazz combo is impossible to resist.
Wrapping one arm around her back and holding her hand up with the other, I guide her around the floor, moving in tune with the music.
She shakes her head and gives a short laugh. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe what?”
“I can’t believe a handsome man is dancing with me while we’re up in the clouds.”
I give a light chuckle. “It does kind of feel like that up here.”
“Actually, now that the sun has set, it’s more like dancing in the stars.”
I’ve never thought of the rooftop restaurant like that, but she’s right. This place feels special, almost magical. That’s something I’ve noticed about Tina in the twenty-four hours we’ve known each other. She has a fresh and clever way of seeing the world.
When I’m with her, I’m lucky enough to get to see it through her eyes.
I never want to stop.
Thoughts like that are dangerous. Especially when we’re headed for an annulment, because it’s the right thing to do. The responsible thing. I may be a gambler, but I never bet more than I can afford to lose.
Still, as a man who has built his life and his fortune around playing the odds, I wouldn’t bet against us just yet. We may have gone about all this backward, but the more I get to know Tina, the more I want to know.
Giving her a little dip, just to make her laugh. Her long dirty blonde hair falls like a waterfall behind her. I grin down at her. “Mountains or beach?”
She blinks in surprise as I pull her back up. “I don’t know, where I live is pretty flat and dry.”
“I mean for vacation.”
“Oh.” She purses those full lips of hers that are more tempting than the tastiest morsels on a dessert tray. “When it comes to vacations, I’d rather relax than be busy. So I guess I’d say beach.”
“If you were looking to relax on vacation, how’d you end up in Sin City?”
“That’s a good question.” She rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say I was on a budget, and I could get a heck of a deal on a flight and hotel package.”
“The room you booked is pretty nice.” I smirk. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind showing you my place.”
“Where do you live?”
“A few floors down.”
Her eyes widen. “You live in a casino?”
“I live in a suite in a resort and casino,” I correct.
“Is that like living in the apartment over your shop?”
I laugh again, something I realize I haven’t done much of in way too damn long. “Funny girl. I’m just here for the year. The suite came as a part of the prize deal on one of my tournaments.”
“Room and board along with cash. Not bad for a day of work.” Her expression sobers. “I know what you do is more than luck.”
“There is skill involved,” I concede. “You have to work hard to be lucky.”
“And you have to be smart.” She frowns slightly. “That’s something my dad used to say. You have to be smart about the risks you take.”
“Was your dad a gambler?”
“Something like that.” She shakes her head. “So, tell me more about what you do in Vegas when you aren’t on a golf course or in a casino.”
“Oh, nothing too exciting. I watch TV. I read.”
“What have you read lately that you loved.”
I tell her about a book on the history of jazz. She asks more questions as if she’s really interested in my insights and not just making polite conversation.
That leads us to talk about a documentary she saw on the history of country music. Which leads us to a podcast I listened to on a famous country artist. Which she follows up with by recommending a documentary series about one of my favorite professional athletes.
We talk on and on, gliding across the dance floor as we do.
We move well together. We know how to carry on a conversation, too. In no time at all, we realize the musical group is finishing its set.
“What now?” I ask. “Would you like to get dessert or maybe grab a drink somewhere.” I brush a lock of hair away from her cheek. “I can get us tickets to a show. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Anything.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “Maybe you could show me where you live.”
I nearly stumble over my feet, but right myself. “You want to see my place?”
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” The single word comes out more like a squawk. Damn, but I’m sounding—and acting—more like a teenager than a full-grown man. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
After signing the check and leaving a healthy tip for our server, who watched our table closely while we danced, I guide Tina toward a private bay of elevators that are exclusively for high-roller suites.
Her eyes light in surprise and interest. I press my hand ever so slightly more against her back, just because I can’t seem to stop touching her.
“This is a pretty fancy set-up you have here,” she says as I flash my room key and the door opens.
“Membership has its privileges.” I groan inwardly. “That sounded so much cooler in my head.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re still cool in my books.” The door slides between us. “And I still want to kiss you.”
We come together like a crash. Our mouths move hot and wet against each other. Her hands tangle in the short hair at the back of my head. I blindly hit the hold button, freezing the elevator, and push her back against the wall.
I tear my mouth from hers to trail hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking lightly at the tender skin as I do. She moans, music to my ears, and pulls me closer.
I explore her body with my hands, stroking up and down her hips, gliding up to cup her full breasts, earning another moan. I want her more than I’ve wanted anyone in my life.
I want her here. I want her now.
But she deserves better than a quick fumble in an elevator that could start moving again at any moment. Hell, she deserves more than the quickie wedding we had last night.
She deserves the best of everything.
I can give her more right now.
Capturing her lips once more in a searing kiss, I slide my hand back down her hips and back up under her skirt. She groans into my mouth, pressing herself closer to me, urging my hand to move between her thighs.
When I meet the apex, it’s my turn to groan as I find her already hot and damp. I slide her panties aside and stroke my finger along her seam.
She cries out, bucking against me. I grin against her lips. “That’s good. Tell me what you like.”
She pulls my mouth back to hers, nibbling on my bottom lip as she moves against my hand. Rubbing herself against me.
I like that. I like that she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to give it.
I apply more pressure, moving my other free hand to massage her breast. Bringing her nipple to a peak. I can’t wait to do this again, when there’s no clothing between us. But right now, hearing her breath grow faster and heavier. Tasting her sighs in my mouth. It’s making me hard as a rock.
“Come for me,” I whisper in her ear, when I tear off the kiss so we can both breathe. “Scream if you like.”
And when she does throw her back and screams my name as she finds release, nothing has ever sounded sweeter.